Para Bellum: Guns Blazing
by AK-103
Summary: What if an organization capable of bringing down every single country on earth to their knees exists? What if they are making weapons capable of inflicting terror upon millions of lives? And what if the same weapons can also be used to stop the conflict itself? You may tighten your helmet strings in the hour of victory... but, remember, if you seek peace, prepare for war.


******, an undisclosed location...**  
 **Begin.**

"I'll ask again, where is the location?"

Even after all the torture, interrogation and mind breaking attempts he pulled; this guy just won't break. It's annoying, but amusing to know that they actually had the developers go through resisting torture lessons.

"You… you… you can suck my balls, that's where it is..."

He sighed. "Wrong answer. Again."

A pair of gloved hands clenched themselves into fists before launching to the tied up scientist on the chair. The fists inflicted damage on the scientist, hitting him on the face area several times, causing swelling and bruises before finishing with a sharp jab to the gut, causing the tortured to gag and eventually spit out whatever he had for lunch earlier today.

"I can do this all day Mister Felix and believe me when I say that I won't stop until you give me up the location of what I'm looking for."

The same fists that punched him became the hands that snapped his attention and consciousness from sleeping, courtesy of another sharp punch. The scientist is definitely exhausted, both physically and mentally. He had endured this for six hours and it's safe to say that he won't hold out much longer. He tried to fall unconscious, but his torturer won't let him. It's as if he knew when he'd do so. His torturer did many things to him. Waterboarding, electrocution, fear manipulation with the use of centipedes and snakes and the guy even took one of his eye out.

So with one eye missing, bruises lithered all over his body and mind on the brink of giving up, the scientist decided that he must die for the sake of protecting the secret of his organization.

"Why… why are you… doing this?" the scientist whimpered, his throat dry.

"Why am I doing this?" the torturer parroted, his voice calm. "I'm doing this for a reason and that is all that you need to know."

"W-W-Who sent you?... the CIA? NSA? Hell, MI6?"

"No, none of them. I'm here of my own accord."

The scientist saw his torturer pulling out something from a metal briefcase where he kept all of his 'tools' in. The scientist's face went pale when he saw what his torturer had brought out.

"And that means that I'm free to act however, wherever and whenever I want without anyone stopping me."

His footsteps were like the sound of bells, moments just before the scientist's end. With what little strength he had, the scientist tried to struggle free. But he couldn't.

Throughout the evening, the empty, dimly lit room is filled with the sound of bone chilling scream of the scientist.

Anyone would scream when they had their fingers removed by a pair of garden scissors.

* * *

 **0430 hours, Jakarta, Indonesia.  
Six days later…**

* * *

"P-P-Please! D-D-Don't kill me! I-I pay you money?!"

He saw his target on the ground, on his knees, begging for his dear yet pitiful life. The man begging for his life was Budi Susanto, a not—so—famous but quite rich business man with a reputation infamous for financing the illegal shipping of weapons to Jakarta. Budi here is quite smart, you see. He didn't have the weapons supplied directly to Jakarta, he'd store them first in a discreet warehouse in Palembang and then have them shipped over to Indonesia under the guise of his company's cargo. The reason why he did this is because his company rarely deals with cargo shipments, he's the President of a metal refinement company, and he usually transport his materials via planes since it's easier yet more costly.

So what changed him into gun business?

Simple, it's money. It's illegal to possess firearms if you're an ordinary citizen, but several government officials and figures are allowed to hold on to small firearms. But what Budi did was beyond possession, he's also guilty of distributing weapons to the general public. He'd have people sell the guns for cheap and the ammunition cheaper. In just a matter of weeks, almost everyone in Jakarta possessed illegal firearms. He'd use his influence to lay the heat off from him and dirty, underhanded methods to make people suspicious of his involvement disappear. One time, someone filed an accusation report on him, but it was withdrawn a day before the trials.

With the presence of illegal firearms in the street, crimes are becoming more often and the police had to face danger even more often. The public's suffering, yet this bastard was over here, bathing in his hard earned cash.

But that's about to change today.

What makes Budi special was that he also possessed information and apparently a very important cargo. Information that many countries would try and get their hands on and a cargo that he's looking for. It's funny how he got it. It was an accident, as in Budi was never supposed to know about it, but he did.

He managed to acquire the information and easily too. The guy had them stored inside of his unguarded and poorly organized file in his computer. What an idiot. But he's not complaining.

"P-Please don't kill me mister!" in his heavily accented English, Budi begged for desperate mercy as he cried on the hard wooden floor of his bedroom.

"Now I can't do that." he adjusted the sights and laid it just at the right spot, on Budi's forehead. "Goodnight."

Two suppressed gunshots echoed the room, followed by the sound of Budi's lifeless body falling to the floor. All lose ends were tied and all that's left is to make the scene look like someone robbed the place and killed Budi. Well, he'd done the last part pretty well.

Max Delta, a young man of western origin, standing no taller than 6'8 with a messy brown hair and pale blue irises. Currently, he's wearing a black long sleeved sweater with an armored carrier vest over it. He also donned a pair of tan cargo pants with ammunitions inside the pockets. He holds his Glock 17 with a lax grip as he'd done his job here. Buckled around his waist was a sturdy brown belt with a sheath attached to it. Inside the sheath was a rather large knife, a borderline machete almost. Pulling out his wallet, he began littering Indonesian currency all around the room, he walks around to make a fake trail of money as an illusion of a hurried escape. Smashing the balcony window open, he's done faking the crime scene.

He'd been through hell and back to get to where he was now… he'd like to say it's literally, but it's close enough. He spent two years tracking down people with possible connections with the information he's looking for, infiltrated several secret organization, tortured important key figures and fought his way here. And look at where it all leads? To a sad, forty something year old man who couldn't even keep his computer secured properly. What an anticlimactic development. He's not complaining though, since it went a lot easier than he thought it might be.

Honestly speaking, he expected to find himself infiltrating a highly secured underground secret organization facility or something, but no. he wouldn't count that case out yet though, who knows what he'll have to do.

Sighing, Max leaned his back against the room's wall. Blood is already staining the floor and he had what he needed kept inside a USB stick for him to access later in the laptop he had in his car. Everything, up to this point, had been hard. All the things he'd done, people he killed and important information he'd stolen… it's finally bearing fruit. He had the location of his precious cargo and it's right here in Jakarta.

"Hell, this's all becoming too easy now…" a chuckle of amusement escaped his lips. Sighing, he leaned off the wall. "Better get going now, security should be up in several minutes.

This place is located in one of the wealthier housing residence in Jakarta, somewhere in Alam Sutra. All the people that lived here are above your common bourgeois, maybe even more. But the thing is, you can get into the housing sector as long as you have a legitimate reason. He told security that he had to visit a relative and they let him in with no problem. Heh.

He couldn't get all too excited just yet though, because what comes after this was going to be harder.

Holstering his Glock inside his Fobus Holster, he tightened the fittings of his gloves. Everything's done here and he had his next objective around the corner. He walked out of the room and proceeded downstairs. Thankfully, Budi was alone so he had no resistance upon entering the house. Exiting the house through the front door, he opened the gate and unlocked his car with a press of the button on his car key. He rented a Mercedes from a car rent company just for the sake of getting to places. He drove the car out of the housing sector, acting neutral when the security at the portal greeted him.

Letting out a breath of relief, he's out of the danger zone. Budi's body should be discovered tomorrow morning, but he'd be long gone. It's strange for Max, he'd never thought that he'd be so into this. To think that this was all started from a single encounter with a government official back in the States…

His name is Max Delta, originally a U.S citizen but due to some complications, he's now going against his own government. It's a longer story, but he had time to think about it.

He'd need to go way back, way more than just several months ago.

He needed to go back to over two years ago.

Two years ago, an organization called the Workshop made themselves known to the world. Their existence was so much of a secret, that their sudden appearance brought a shock to the world. The Workshop was a secret organization consisting of a group of international scientists working together to create weapons of war. Not 'for war', but 'of war'. Their intention was clear and they had grabbed the attention of the UN the moment they decided to make themselves known. Though little was known about the Workshop, it's known that they produce and manufacture new types of weapons like guns, missiles, drones, aircrafts and other conventional military assets. What scared many countries was not the stuffs they made, but the fact that they have been operating right under their noses without them knowing anything about it.

The manufacturing and production of these new weapons have received mixed responses from countries worldwide. Some were wary of this, most were interested and the rest were just suspicious. A request for investigation was requested by several countries, and the congress confirmed it. Representatives were sent to inspect and investigate this newcomer, but they never made it back. The representatives were sent on the 26th of July 2012, but three days after that, no further contact could be made. Countries that sent their respective representatives could not make contact and vice versa. Even with the armed escorts that the representatives went with, nothing could be done to contact them.

A week later, the congress held a meeting again and it was decided that the Workshop was suspected of holding them captive. The UN sent their response team as an attempt for a peaceful search, but peaceful was the last thing they expected. The Workshop fought back, fighting with the weapons of their creations. They have their own armed forces, fleet and even air units. They were considered to be the world's smallest superpower. With the initial attempt of peaceful investigation unsuccessful, countries decided that it was time to get serious and retaliate with force. The US military sent their fleet of ships and marines to the only known location where the Workshop operated. The fleet took heavy damage but managed to take over the place in the end.

But when they thought they had the place conquered, the entire base exploded, killing everyone inside.

The base was an ocean platform located somewhere in the Atlantic, lives that were aboard that platform were lost instantly when the platform exploded and collapsed, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. With the heavy hit that they took, the US military retreated and returned to salvage whatever they could in hopes of finding out more about the Workshop. But their attempt at recovering whatever they could from the wreckage proved to be futile because aside from dead bodies of the marines that died from the explosion, several weapons and useless electronics, they couldn't find anything. Everything was lost to the sea.

So, where does Max fit in all of this?

Well…

One of the representatives sent from the US was his dear mother. Helena Bailey Delta.

"…" he failed to notice the unnecessary amount of strength he's putting on the steering wheel, gripping into the rubbery material.

He couldn't describe the fear, shock, rage and anger he felt upon learning the news. He had just finished college by the time he learned about his mother MIA status and he couldn't deal with the sudden drop of news. His mother had raised him as a single parent and he had no known relatives, except a possible uncle, but that's another story for another time. Ever since then his life changed. He no longer had ties with his friends, he broke up with his girlfriend who he was in a serious relationship and started to do things that he would not normally do.

In order to get a clue about the whole situation, he had to call in a friend of his mother, a man named Jeff Kidd. He was his mother's associate and he too was involved in the investigation of the missing representatives. Mister Jeff was clueless, just like everyone else was, and with the limited power he had, he could only do so much. He wanted answers, a location and a reason from these people from the Workshop. Why are they doing this? For what reason? And who's behind it?

In order to keep his mind from going insane with all the overwhelming questions, Max decided to take action. And the first action he took was the kidnapping of a scientist named Felix Harper. Felix was not related to the Workshop directly, no, that'd make his job a whole lot EASIER if that was the case. He was a suspect on the FBI's blacklist, not dangerous enough to be considered priority, but he's also had some heat on him. Suspected of leaking federal intelligence to other countries for profit, he was also suspected of surveying a cargo shipment that took place in the States. But he had gone and kidnapped the cocksucker, illegally. This pissed off the feds bad because Felix was supposed to be their target and they were the one who's supposed to beat the shit out of him.

Six days earlier, he managed to cough out some information from the guy, some useful and most were federal intelligence. It was Felix's information that managed to get him here in Indonesia. He learned of this 'shipment' being sent to Indonesia, apparently someone else from here was responsible with the storage of these shipments. And that led him to Budi, who's now dead as a motherfucker. His business here in Indonesia will soon be over and hopefully, things will go smoothly from here and on.

But he knew that it's impossible, things were just going to get rougher and harder.

* * *

 **0520 hours, somewhere in a shipping port in Jakarta.  
The same day.**

* * *

The port is guarded by several security guards, but since they're just normal low wage security, he doubted that they'll have much interest in doing their job. They're not even armed, maybe with knives and nightsticks but that's just about it. Getting into the port is easy, since there're already workers at this hour in time. Activities around and inside the port was not as busy as he thought it might be, but caution was still a priority. He checked the information he took from Budi's computer and took a few times reading it so he knew the exact location of the cargo. But that didn't mean that it'll make his job of finding it easier.

His item of interest was not kept inside a warehouse, instead it's kept inside one of the MANY shipping containers located in the port. His search could be narrowed down to a more specific area, but even so, he's going to waste a good two or three hours searching for what he's looking for. It's inside a red shipping container, with an emblem of a faded out gear painted in white. Aside from that visual description, he got nothing else.

Huffing, he landed after scaling the wall into the port. He got lazy and didn't bother entering through the front gate, even though it should be fine since there're quite a few people around already, so he took this quicker and less riskier alternative. He's in his street clothes and he wore his vest underneath his sweater. He's sweating though, since this country's always freaking hot even in the early morning like this. He memorized the coordinates and location, but he still couldn't get any clear view from land.

Thinking creatively, Max turned his course for a little detour. Entering an area where there're a lot of shipping containers placed, he scaled one container with incredible finesse. He had no difficulty in climbing the containers and scaling them and he doubted that people would care since they would probably mistake him as a worker. Now in quite a high height with a clearer view of the area, Max's able to determine his location as well as the approximate location of the container he's looking for.

"Hm… it should be on the next yard over there…" which meant he had to cross between docks, great.

Max discarded all the discouraging thoughts and began doing what he had to do. He made his way to the crossing pier where he could go and take a ferry in order to get to the other dock next to the one here via jumping from containers to the containers. It's easier and it also served as a morning exercise for him. He free ran and parkour-ed his way to his destination, doing so smoothly and carefully yet managing to keep a quick pace.

He wasn't always this athletic. He was much more of a geek than a jock in his high school and college years, but he began taking his physical fitness and condition seriously in order to keep himself alive and capable. He'd spend time in gyms, using treadmills, doing cardio and maybe a little bit of lifting. He also took several combat classes. The first one he took was boxing, since it was easier to learn. Not to brag, but his coach commended him for being a quick learner and capable fighter. He even won several matches back in the States, non-award matches of course.

Boxing filled him in with the necessary offensive skills in a fight and also how to dodge a punch that was meant for you. His defensive was a lacking so his coach recommended him on taking other forms of martial arts and self-defense routine like krav maga. Max considered his advice but he didn't have time to really dedicate himself in another discipline because he really had no time to waste attending classes. So he learned through experience.

He remembered his first time of being held with a gun on his head. The first thing that came to his mind was to get rid of the threat immediately, which was the gun. And he did. It came in naturally. He disarmed the dude by taking control of the hand that was holding the gun, twisted his arm to let the grip around the weapon go and from there and on, it was him who held the upper hand. He'd done a lot of fighting and he's confident that he's capable of kicking ass when the time called.

Max stepped out of the ferry and to the pier of the next dock. He's actually surprised that they'd actually let outsiders cross the docks, maybe the locals often use this place as a recreational place? Who knows, either way, he's not complaining. He walked up the stairs to the surface and began his search again there. This time, he's able to pinpoint the location of his target.

"Hm, what the…" stopping in the middle of his run, Max stared at the distance. A crane was being used to carry several shipping containers. Currently, the crane's in the middle of moving the containers, moving slowly as to avoid any accidents. There were workers gathering around the area, some were giving orders in Indonesian. His eyes then narrowed when he got a clear look at one of the containers.

"That's what' I'm looking for. Shit." He began running again, this time to get closer to the area. After reaching an appropriate a suitable distance, hidden behind a container on an elevated position, Max was able to scout the area. It's quite dark, since it's still early, but they're using lights and highlighted construction uniforms, allowing him to identify them easily.

Six men were on the ground, dressed in construction uniform. They're unarmed and were just regular worker. Among the six one of them was the leader, as he's the one who's shouting the orders. Accompanying the six men were another group consisting of four men. This time, he's actually worried. These four men are armed with automatic rifles, M4 variants that he was not able to identify due to the distance. They're dressed uniformly with tactical vests, sidearms and were currently surveying the moving of the crates. Max spotted a group of trucks, eight wheelers, with the back empty. They must be planning on placing the containers on the truck.

This is bad news for Max because this meant that his objective was getting away. He cursed softly before moving to act out his quickly thought plan. Basically, he'd hijack the truck that had the container he wanted and fight off resistance. But that'll be difficult because he's bound to have police after his ass if he went and just GTA five this shit. So, he'll just wait until they finish loading the containers on the trucks while hiding underneath one of the truck.

The truck that was chosen to carry the container he wanted was the second one. He sneaked his way underneath the truck and fit himself there however he could and with whatever little space he had. He overheard the men talking, something about transporting the trucks somewhere to another location. After waiting for several more minutes, the trucks' engine were starting and he's on the move, Splinter Cell style.

* * *

 **0730 hours, unknown industrial location in Jakarta…  
Same day.**

* * *

A guard, patrolling the perimeter of a building, did not see the pair of hands looming out of the shadow from the corner. The pair of hands wrapped themselves tightly around his neck, constricting his breathing and preventing him from screaming. The guard tried to struggle, moving his arms and body as an attempt to escape the hold, but he found himself slowly losing consciousness, eyelids getting heavy and then all he saw was black.

"Sssh…"

Max laid the body of the unconscious guard and propped him against the wall. He made sure that the area was quiet and quite secluded so that they wouldn't find the body quickly. He'll have about twenty minutes until this guy woke up though. Thinking of an ingenious idea, he took out a piece of cloth from his pocket that he'd been using to clean his shoes and used it as a gag slash muffler hybrid for the guard. He also rendered the guard's arms and legs useless by tying them with the guard's own shoelaces. They won't hold long, but it'll be enough.

Max, with his right hand clutching his Glock and the other hand free, proceeded to his primary objective and that was the building. The trucks took him to this large warehouse of some sort. He was not able to do anything as they transported the containers off the truck, since doing so will jeopardize his presence, so he had to wait it out until everything's clear. He managed to sneak his way to the side of the warehouse and it was surprisingly not well guarded. The guard that he just knocked unconscious was also armed with automatic weapons, a sidearm and also bulletproof vest like the ones he saw at the port today.

Who are these people, and what are they doing with these containers?

Well, he's going to find out either way.

Making his way up the building, yes up the building, he climbed his way up to reach for the huge opening on the wall that must have been caused by poor management and repair. He had to holster his gun since he needed both hands to reach the place. He grabbed onto whatever that stuck out from the wall, like excess bricks, window frames, stuck out pillars etcetera. With a silent huff, he managed to enter the warehouse, landing on top of a wooden crate placed at the top of an storage rack that you would see in warehouses.

The warehouse was dim and spacious. The smallest of movements would cause and echo, because aside from the crates placed along the sides, there weren't much here. From where he's at, he had a vantage point of pretty much the entire warehouse. He saw the container that he was searching for placed in the middle of the warehouse with the other containers he saw them took. Eight men, four of them being the ones he saw from the port, were gathered near the containers and appeared to be discussing something.

"Four of you return to your posts, the rest will be in here with me."

Max was slightly surprised. That was perfect English. No accent and was natural.

As the men split up to follow their instructions, the rest that remained also split up to take up posts in the warehouse. Max began his approach. His approach was to do a 'divide and conquer' strategy. First, he'll start by eliminating the guards furthest away from his target. Maneuvering his way through the racks, he spotted one guard isolated from the rest of his friends. Max flicked the safety strap of his khukri sheath and slowly slid the blade off and into his grip. Holding the blade in a reverse grip, Max jumped off the rack, his blade raised in a stabbing motion and physics will do the rest.

He landed on the man, stabbing him right on the throat. Because he fell from quite a height, it's safe to say that the man was no longer alive. There was no struggle, only a brief period of confusion and pain, before the man quickly died. Quickly and professionally, he disposed of the man's bleeding body, placing it somewhere it would not be detected by patrolling guards. Thankfully, no one heard the impact of the fall so he should be safe.

Using his ears and eyes carefully, Max made his way to the container carefully. He'd listen for footsteps, chattering and even breathing. Fortunately for him, the guards were rather chatty so he shouldn't be too worried about getting caught by surprise. It's them who should be worrying.

"Jadi kan begini, kita itu…"

Max overheard two guards talking in Indonesian whilst they were making their rounds. He needed to kill them, no other choice. Taking out his khukri once again, Max gripped it in the same reverse grip. Like a lion, he stalked his prey with no sound made. His footsteps made no sounds as they move. Releasing a short breath, Max swept in, blade raised. He stabbed the first guy at the back of the neck, killing him instantly. The next guy was not given time to react when he felt a fist planted to his side, hard, knocking the breath out of him. The first strike was followed up by a palm strike to the forehead, causing blurriness to the vision and it was ended with a throw down. Max twisted the guard's arm, forcing him to bend forward and he swept the guy's leg, while pushing him down to aid the impact. The impact made a rather loud cracking noise, Max's worried if anyone might've heard it.

Max breathed out, whilst pulling his khukri from the dead body. He continued to sneak his way to his objective but that still left him with one more guard to kill. He peeked out from his cover to see that no one's guarding the containers at all. Still careful and wary, Max slipped out of cover and sneaked his way to the container.

But he was stopped by a bullet that nearly hit his head. Acting quickly, Max turned back, his hand withdrawing his Glock with amazing speed and he had the pistol aimed at the attacker in no time.

"Put your weapons down." The man said to him in English. "You don't look Indonesian, do you understand English?"

Max's eyes narrowed, like a bear examining its prey. "Saya bisa berbicara sedikit bahasa Indonesia …"

The man laughed at Max's attempt of humor. "You westerns and your jokes, funny." Then all traces of amusement was gone instantly. "Who sent you? Your government?"

"I bought the plane tickets myself, rented a car with my own money and I'm here by myself." Max raised a playful eyebrow. "What do you think?"

The man's visage transformed from serious to mad. "You'll die here." He raised his rifle, an M4-A1, to an eye's level, his finger squeezing the trigger, but he was not able to fire. Max was already on him. Max's hands were placed at two points on the gun. The pistol grip and the barrel. He pushed the barrel upwards, pointing it to the air to direct bullet threats away from him. His other hand that was on the pistol grip area nimbly flicked the gun's safeties on. So, it was a huge surprise for Max's opponent to see his gun not firing at all. In the confusion, Max punched his attacker on the face with the knuckles of the hand that was holding the barrel since it was within his opponent's face level. The impact of the punch was hard, causing the man to stumble back, unarmed.

Quickly, Max flicked the safety back off and pointed the gun at the man.

"Ow… ow… ow…!" the man hissed in pain. He struggled on one knee, before eventually standing back up. "You're good… you're one good fighter… but can the same be said about your shooting?"

Max's eyes were cold when he pulled the trigger, letting bursts of bullets to soar out from the gun, killing the man before him. The M4-A1 uses a 5.56x45 NATO rounds. These were created to be fast and quick, making velocity its killing point. Unlike an AK's 7.62x39 which was meant to inflict damage from their impact due to the larger width, the 5.56 has a higher chance of penetration, as long as it's tissues and not bones. This meant that as long as the shot's accurate, then it's deadly. At this range, accuracy was not a problem.

The bullets did not miss their mark. It passed through the man's skull, bouncing inside, turning his brain to mush. Wordlessly, the man fell to the ground, dead.

"How's that for my shooting?" spitting at the corpse, Max threw the rifle away and returned his focus to the container.

He approached the container that he was searching for. With little difficulty, he was able to open the container and open it. Max was surprised by what he's seeing. Inside the container was not just an empty space filled with boxes or crates or anything. He felt a gust of cold air escaping from the container, and instantly, he knew that this was not your standard shipment container. The interior was illuminated by lights and several cooling devices. Along with several small metal boxes, a large dark, greyish container was also inside. It was kept upright, vertically. What made him even more curious was the fact that it looked like a very large gun case, not as tall as him, but still big nonetheless. It had a handle, and two clips that kept it closed and everything. All in all, it just looked like a very big pelican gun case.

Max stepped into the container, feeling comfortable with the coldness of the temperature. He approached the large gun case like thing. Carefully, he laid it flat horizontally on the surface of the container. With baited breath, Max unclipped the safety clips off and lifted the lid up, opening the large case.

He was instantly confused.

"A girl…? What's a girl doing here inside a box…?"

Inside the box was a girl with long brown hair, dressed in a green olive drabbed military uniform. She also had a peaked cap worn on her head, the ones normally worn by officers in the military. Judging from her height, she couldn't be taller than him, several inches short and that's probably not counting the boots she was wearing. Underneath the olive drabbed top, she wore a white collared buttoned up shirt and a black tie. Her lower apparel consisted of a checkered red and brown skirt, a pair of knee length navy blue socks and finally, a pair of shiny dress shoes. Her eyes were closed, and it drew Max's attention.

She was no ordinary girl, Max had a feeling. There's no way that an ordinary girl would survive being kept inside a case like this for hours, much less days. Curiously, he took off his the glove worn on his right hand and touched the girl's cheek. Her skin felt like another person's to the touch. Soft. Was it because she's a girl?

" _Fingerprint marking received."_

Max retracted his hand quickly, already reaching for his Glock. When the robotic voice came out from the girl's mouth, his wariness flared and he tensed. The girl's eyes opened, revealing a pair of brilliant pinkish—red orbs. Her mouth opened once again, droning out words in a robotic voice,

" _Starting up mainframe… 40 percent… 50 percent… 60 percent… 70 percent… 80 percent… 90 percent… 100 percent… systems online."_

The girl's eyes flashed pink, akin to the computer being turned on.

"Calibrating auditory senses… activating personality codex… calibrating voice module…"

Slowly, her voice changed from the robotic and monotonous eerie voice, to a lighter, more soprano and human—like voice. Max took a few steps back when the girl slowly rose to a sitting position, still wary. He saw her looking around, not paying attention or even noticing his presence. It was then, after a few more reality check, she took notice of him.

"So you're my handler…" her eyes seemed to be analyzing his apparel. She eyed him for the equipment he was wearing. Her eyes lingered at the gun he had holstered on the right side of his waist, and then the body armor he was wearing. Then they finally flicker over to his face, looking at him right in the eyes. "Hm, not bad."

Max's eyes twitched. She made it sound like as if she's checking him out. Well, she was checking him out but in that sense…

She stood before Max, revealing her full height to him. He was right, her shoes made her look taller. "So what's the situation, cap."

Taken back by how easy going her tone was, Max replied, "We're in this warehouse with hostiles. I've eliminated the ones inside but there're more outside."

"Hm… I see. Well first, let me introduce myself. I am FN—FAL, the Belgium made battle rifle. As you can see, I have a human body now. Though the composition is different from you humans, I'm as close as an android could get to a human."

An android…

"You are created by the Workshop, right?" Max asked.

"If you mean the development group that created me, then yes, the people of the Workshop are indeed my creators." FAL noticed the agro in Max's tone. "What's wrong?"

Max's eyes narrowed into slits, but it's not directed at FAL. "Nothing," then his gaze relaxed, returning to normal. "right now, let's just focus on getting out of here and to my safe house. We'll have to kill everyone outside though, so grab a gun to-"

"That won't be necessary."

It took Max a lot of effort to prevent himself from exclaiming in surprise. With a quick sleigh of her hands, FAL summoned a rifle on her hands. She held the rifle firmly, almost as if it was her own body. The girl gave him a grin, but it's nothing too wild. "I am the gun."

Max was silent for a few seconds, before he spoke, "…we're going to have a long talk after this." he pulled out his Glock. "For now, let's just get out of here."

"Roger."

Exiting the container, Max ordered Fal to loot the plate carrier from the dead guard that he killed earlier. He observed her showing no disgust or repulse or whatsoever when she saw the dead body. She took off the plate carrier and quickly fitted it on her own body.

"You done? Let's go."

"Wait." Max halted at her sudden call. "Aren't you going to take that weapon?" she pointed to the M4—A1 on the ground that he used to kill the guard with earlier.

"No, I'm good." He raised his Glock and tapped the hilt of his khukri. "These are enough."

"Then at least allow me to be the point man, I'll lead."

Max shrugged. "Sure."

The pair exited the warehouse through the front gate, returning to the lot where they parked the trucks at. Moving with Fal on point, the duo maneuver their way from cover to cover. Fal peeked out from a pile of rusted metal barrels and other scraps, her eyes narrowing. "Cap, I'm detecting four signatures, armed. Can you confirm them?"

"Yeah that's them alright. Let's make this quick."

The group of four was casually chatting in the middle of the lot, near the trucks. The idiots…

Max raised his Glock and khukri, holding them in a tactical manner with the blade pointing down. "I'll flank them from the left and you'll shoot on my shot, got it?"

"Affirmative, quickly now, get to position."

Max shook his head at Fal's eagerness. He quickly made his way to position, manipulating the environment to his advantage. He sneaked through the sides, moving from cover to cover, and doing so quickly yet stealthily. He's on position but from here, he had limited view of the hostiles. He only had sight of one guy, ten meters away. Breathing in, he acted as soon as he breathed out.

Max vaulted over his cover, gun aimed at the visible hostile. The first shot scored a headshot, earning him an instant kill. He heard and confirmed Fal's follow up shots, killing two of the remaining guards. That left the final guard for him, he ended the guy in a similar manner, a shot right on the head, another instant kill. Approaching the bodies of the fallen guards, Max sheathed his khukri but still kept his Glock ready in his hand. He checked the guards' faces, they're locals.

Fal came walking in to the sight of him inspecting the bodies. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just confirming our kills." Max replied neutrally. "Nice shots back there."

"Thanks." Fal smiled. "So, where are we going?"

"Well, first, we're going to use one of the trucks here to return to the port where the shipping container you're placed in came from." Max said while holstering his gun. "I left my car there and there're important things there."

"Is the port far from here?"

"Not really, about an hour trip via highway."

"Okay then." Fal nods. "So, you mentioned about having a long talk before. Why don't we do it on the way?"

"Good idea, but I really mean it you know?"

Max saw the puzzled look forming on Fal's face. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he paused his search of the trucks' key from the dead bodies. "let's start with the fact that I don't know what you are, how about that?"

Then the look of puzzlement slowly morphed into disappointment. "I see… well, it's a long talk we'll be having."

After some more searching, Max finally found the key for one of the trucks. He tried it on each truck and after getting the correct one, he turned on the engine and drove out of the area with Fal sitting beside him.

* * *

 **You guys weren't expecting this, were you? Well I can't blame you.**

 **This story's fate is unknown, because it's you guys who'll decide. If I receive good feedbacks, positive criticism, suggestions and active support from you guys; then that increases the chance of this story having a clearer future. That's one thing I need to bring up to the table.**

 **The next thing is the characters and originality of the setting. This story is taking place in our modern day and age, but an alternate universe of our universe. FN-FAL is a real original character in Upotte, We don't know anything else about here, aside from the fact that she's FNC's real sister. We do not know her personality, or at least I don't, because the manga has not been updating itself and the anime is totally useless in providing any information. My OC is a product of inspiration from other stories that I've read. His personality will not be likable at first, but that's the fun in characterization. You're making someone you're not and you can or cannot possibly be and make him face troubles.**

 **Next thing is my knowledge on guns. I'll have to admit, I'm no gun nut, but I do like guns. My interest in guns make me want to learn more, thus fueling my motivation for doing research. My research may not be accurate, hell it may just be plain wrong, but I'm sure that you guys will be kind enough to help me with that.**

 **Finally, since this story will involve real life places, events and probably people, I'm asking right now to please don't be offended. That's all I ask of you, please don't get offended if I, let's say, kill off a country's President and you happen to be a resident of that country. This is fiction and will only be fiction.**

 **That's all that i have to say, really.**


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